


your name

by glitchblood



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, gay little coders!!!!!!, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28210113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitchblood/pseuds/glitchblood
Summary: Richard's attempt to clear the knot in his throat.
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	your name

**Author's Note:**

> hate this so bad cus i have no idea what i'm doing but anyway this was inspired by a very specific scenario that plays in my head every time i listen to washing machine heart by mitski so call this fic a part of the jmcu (jarrich-mitski cinematic universe)

Every moment alone with Jared is a moment where Richard’s chest tightens and his heart aches and his stomach twists and his brain tells him that he's going to vomit everywhere. Adrenaline fills his body and tells him to do something, _anything,_ make any kind of move at all, because god knows Jared isn't going to do it.

How good Jared is at hiding his emotions is one of the most frustrating things about this whole thing, because Richard’s intuition wants him to believe that Jared would reciprocate, but he's so hard to read that Richard can't be sure. If he can’t even predict a reaction, how is Richard supposed to do anything about it? When doing something has the potential to ruin everything between them, and not doing something is going to cause the knot in his throat to suffocate and kill him, what does he do from there?

“What do I do from here?”

“That's rough.” Erlich was sitting in front of Richard, smoke billowing from his lips. “Well, I didn't expect you to be getting any, so I didn't mention it before, but now I guess we need to have a conversation regarding having sex in my incubator.”

“Wha—why did you not mention that when I moved in?”

“Richard. Look at you.”

“Ouch.” Richard tilted his head up to meet Erlich’s eyes. “You're not gonna say anything about… the… you know. It's Jared. And Jared is a. Guy. And I'm a guy. Like, no jokes about it?”

“Frankly, I'm offended that you thought I would have done that. I'm a man of principle, Richard. I respect my guys even if they like guys.” Erlich brought the glass bong back to his mouth. “I don't care who you're fucking as long as you're not fucking _loudly_ while people are sleeping.”

“What… Jared and I are not. Going to be. Anytime soon, okay? Slow down.”

“Why not?” Erlich set the glass bong on the table next to him. “What does the handbook say about coworkers dating?”

“It's not about the policy. Okay, well… maybe it's a little about the policy. Actually, what is the policy…? Never mind. But mainly because, like… he's not. Gonna. Want to do that.”

“Are you serious?”

Richard’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes, I'm serious. Why wouldn't I be serious?”

“Richie, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you are actually fucking blind.”

—

“Jared? This might be a weird question and you don't have to answer, but… are you into guys?”

“That's not weird,” Jared said. “I’ve only been asked that question by former girlfriends and assailants. Both of which have asked in a worse manner than you have.”

Richard didn’t dare to ask.

“But to answer your question,” Jared smiled and leaned in, his voice quieter, “I've had boyfriends before. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Richard said, turning back to his monitor, “just wanted to know.”

—

“You need to remember to take breaks more often,” Jared repeats for maybe the millionth time since knowing Richard, handing him a water bottle and a sandwich on a plate.

“I know, I know,” Richard said, clicking out of the tab he was working in and circling his fingers on his temples.

“Staring at screens for so long is probably what's causing all these headaches, you know.”

“Yeah, but it's my job.”

“You don't have to do your job _all_ day.” Jared stood behind Richard and placed his hands absentmindedly on his shoulders. “Breaks are necessary. All work and no play makes Richard a dull boy.

“I get in a groove and I can't get out. I don't want to leave the groove in case I never get back in.” Richard leaned into Jared’s touch and closed his eyes. “Sometimes it's hard for me to figure out. Like. What I’m supposed to do if I'm not working or sleeping.”

“Eat, for one,” Jared said. “Or take care of other things around the house. When's the last time you did your laundry?”

“Um.”

“That's an indicator that you need to do it. How about you do it tonight?” Jared pressed into Richard’s shoulders, rubbing down to his shoulder-blades and back up again.

“Okay.” Richard lulls his head to the side and focuses on Jared’s hands on him, melting all of his tension away.

“Do you need an Advil?”

“Can you just. Stay with me? Keep doing that?”

“The back rub?”

“Yeah.”

Richard couldn't see, but he could feel that in the space between when he spoke and Jared’s response, Jared had smiled. “Of course.”

 _Perfect._ Richard had nearly forgotten he had even had a headache in the first place, or that he had any work to do, or that he hadn't eaten that day. All he could think of was Jared’s hands and Jared’s calming voice and the warmth of Jared’s presence behind him and Jared Jared Jared.

Jared, who always just wanted to help, to be useful, never wanting anything in return, which was going to one day drive Richard up the fucking wall.

Jared, who Richard would have one hundred percent believed if he had told him that there was a ticking clock inside him that would ring every time it sensed that Richard was struggling with anything and needed assistance.

Jared, who Richard desperately wanted to grab by the collar of his stupid, neatly ironed shirt and tell every little thought about him that's ran through his head.

Jared. Jared. Jared.

“Jared,” Richard said aloud.

“Yes?”

“I just..." Richard didn't feel like coming up with a lie, "like the way your name feels in my mouth.”

Richard couldn't decide if the large hand that flew to Jared’s chest was his attempt of trying to stop his heart from bursting out of him, or desperately trying to keep it from breaking apart, or restraining himself from doing something that wouldn't be the wisest thing to do.

“Richard,” Jared whispered.

“Yeah?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Jared’s lips, and he let out a content sigh. “I could get used to saying yours, too.”

Before he knew it, Jared had carefully closed the door behind him and Richard was left alone.

—

Richard walked into the laundry room with a basket full of dirty clothes, stopping in the doorway once he sees Jared standing in front of the dryer, tending to bathroom towels that needed to be folded. “Hello, Richard,” Jared said, “don't mind me.”

Richard carefully approached the washing machine, opening it and dumping the contents of the basket inside. He had closed the door of the washing machine and turned to lean against it, facing Jared, watching the way his fingers gently (but still with efficiency) touch the fabric. “Jared.”

Jared gave his attention to him. “Everything alright?”

“I want you to remind me,” he said, his fingers grazing across the edge of the dryer, “about some of the... workplace policies.”

Jared’s eyebrows quirked. “Which ones?”

“Relationships?”

Jared paused. “Do you have your eye on someone? There's no reason to restrict you from dating, as long as everything is professional and you're not intentionally trying to distract everyone by having them over during work hours. And…" he leaned in, "I would love to meet them.”

“They. I mean. No. I mean like, coworkers. If coworkers wanted to… pursue… each other.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth Richard wanted to vomit.

“I… don't know. I haven't thought of that. It might not be the most professional of choices to make, so… um, anyway. Why do you ask?”

“You. You know why. Don't you?” Jared didn't respond to that. “Can you tell me if that would be okay, then?”

“It would be okay,” Jared said, “as long as it isn't interfering with their work. I don't know. In my opinion, it's best to avoid it. It might just cause a mess.”

“A mess?”

“Imagine if… for example, Dinesh and Gilfoyle start dating. Then they get into a fight, break up, and neither of them want to work together anymore. We would lose one of them.”

“Dinesh and Gilfoyle hate each other already and work fine.”

“Then imagine if it were,” Jared swallowed, “you and me. Would it make more sense, then?”

_No, because I’d never see a reason to break up with you._

“Anyway.” Jared cleared his throat, “I guess there's no policy against it. But I’ll say… maybe having a rule against it in your own personal handbook of life would be best.”

“Okay.”

 _Personal handbook?_ What kind of shit was that? Richard assumed that that was Jared’s way of saying that, technically, workplace dating was okay, but Jared himself wouldn't be interested in it. _That's no fucking help._

Richard looked back at Jared, at his fingers, at his eyes that hadn't met Richard’s in a while. Richard wanted, more than anything, to pull him into himself and wrap his arms around his back. To have Jared lean his head down and kiss him.

This is why Richard needs to stop being in rooms alone with Jared.

Because Richard wanted Jared to pick him up and set him on top of the dryer, cup his face in his hand, and force their lips together, his other hand firmly holding onto his neck or his side or his thigh. He wanted Jared to say “We’re violating the rules,” and Richard wanted to say “Fuck the rules. Fuck—just fuck _me,_ already, god damn it, _please.”_ He wanted Jared to kiss his neck and unzip the fly of his jeans as Richard held onto Jared’s shoulders. He wanted to say that he’s been wanting this and him for what feels like forever and now that he finally has him he's never been happier about anything.

But Richard’s feet were still on the ground. Jared hadn’t moved. His fingers were occupied with the fucking towels instead of Richard. His gut twisted.

“Jared,” Richard said.

“Richard.”

“Say something,” Richard’s words were weak like his breath was slowly leaving him, “please. I just want you to say something. _Anything.”_ He hadn’t noticed until then, but his hand had absentmindedly began to reach for Jared’s.

Jared dropped the towel he was holding and had grabbed Richard’s outstretched hand, pulling it up to place a soft kiss onto his palm. Richard's voice lowered to a whisper as a stinging feeling was piercing into his eyes and his throat closed. “I love you. Jared. I love you.”

“I know,” Jared said, his cheek now resting in Richard’s palm, “I know you do.”

They stayed like that for a while, Richard feeling like he was floating, until Jared said, “Richard.”

“What is it?”

“I just wanted to say your name.”

Jared’s hands moved from Richard’s wrists to roam down his forearms, then to his upper arms, squeezing gently. “Richard.” Jared’s other hand went to Richard’s shoulder, then the nook between his neck and his collarbone, then his jaw, then his cheek. “Richard.”

“Say something,” Richard said, “other than my name?”

“Can I kiss you?” Jared asked, looking into Richard’s eyes for the first time since he entered the room, to which Richard replied by desperately clutching at Jared, balling his fists in his shirt, with a throaty _“Yes.”_

Jared’s lips don't look as soft and full as they really are, and Richard starts to feel bad that they had to meet with his grossly bitten ones.

“Can I kiss you,” Jared whispered, breathless, “again?”

Richard didn't feel real. He thought he was dreaming. He might've been, but he didn't want to take his hands away from Jared long enough to pinch himself.

“You can kiss me as long you want.” Richard pecked at his lips. “Whenever you want.” Another peck. “However you want.”

“You’d let me?”

“Yeah,” Richard said. _Whatever you want. Anything you want. I'd let you._

“Richard.” Jared kissed him again, one of his hands moving to run through Richard’s bronze hair. “We can't.”

Richard leaned into Jared's hand. "Why." _You know why._

“I told you. I don't…” Jared trailed off, “I can't. I don't think I can.” Richard was being pulled into Jared’s chest. He felt as if he were being held like Jared’s life depended on it.

“Can you try?”

“No." Jared's chin was resting on the top of Richard's head. "Not... Not right now.”

Richard noticed how clean Jared smelled. Simple. Like laundry detergent and a little bit of vanilla. Like the grass in the morning after a heavy rain. He didn't want to think about what he had said.

“Is that okay?” Jared asked.

Richard didn't say anything. Jared repeated the question.

“Yeah.” Richard pulled away and turned around immediately. “That's okay.”

Jared finishes folding the towels alone.


End file.
